We Could Be Heroes

Monday morning after the campout, the last camper's truck pulls out of the meadow and heads up the hill. The roar of the engine fades, a breeze picks up and ruffles the tarps. Bird song, the creek murmuring in the hollow. I am alone.

I usually experience this moment with Sequoia, but this year I was truly alone, the last woman standing in the meadow. After three days of sharing this vast space with my far-flung friends and family, it was empty. Y'all left the meadow in better shape than you found it. There were a few grocery left behind, but not much: three watermelons, half a box of graham crackers, unopened bags of marshmallows, a cooler full of soda (but no beer; funny, that.) The dishes were done, the garbage picked up. Louise organized the recycling center and hauled three bags to town. The meadow was in great shape, but the ghost of the gathering still inhabited the space.. The campfire was still smoldering, camp chairs still scattered around the perimeter. A pile of blankets on the deck where my nephew passed out, a deck of cards on a tree stump, an Oprah Magazine draped over a camp chair, its banner headline declaring "HOW TO GET BETTER WITH AGE." There's 50-something Oprah, smooth, sleek, styled, lyrcra-ed and airbrushed, photoshopped next to 21-year old Oprah. The juxtaposition is designed to impress us with how great she looks at her age and, don't get me wrong, she looks great. I guess I just have a different definition of "better."

As I load party leftovers into the back of my car, I catch sight of my reflection in the window glass. My hair looks like straw, my skin looks like leather, my clothes are caked in dust, I'm wearing the same puffy vest I wore all weekend which is covered in ash and pocked by flying cinders. I'm dusty, dirty, exhausted, and fully and completely happy.

The corollary of the moment after the party described above is the moment before the party, which is usually hectic and sometimes anxiety-filled, but this year more the most. I often say that I can't control the weather, but that doesn't mean I don't feel responsible for the weather. When I invite people to come all the way out to the Colestin, I feel like I owe them good weather. (It's a symptom of my particular brand of neurosis.) As we watched the cold front move in Friday morning, as the storms began to break hard that afternoon, I must admit, I had a bit of an anxiety attack. I was convinced that a) no-one was going to come, and b) anyone who did come would be miserable.

Then folks began to arrive and the laughter started. Tarps went up, the campfire roared to life, people started preparing food and firing up cookstoves. More arrivals, more laughter. Cloudbursts turned to drizzle, stopped, and then repeated the pattern again. It didn't matter. We gathered under the tarps, ate, played music and had a fine, fine time. There were unforeseen advantages to the cool weather. No flying clouds of dust, no socks full of stickers, no flies! The land was green and glorious, profuse with wildflowers. The disk golfers could play hard without being killed by heat.  The advantage was reflected in some amazingly low scores and a few never-to-be-forgotten shots such as the "Skip-Ace." Yours truly took advantage of the cool to lead a select group on a hike from hell, giving us all a new appreciation for the lyric "I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now could see." And the music! The music was incredibly eclectic this year. Danny and Noah's deep jams, the beautiful Ham Jams, campfire harmonies, a Serenader rehearsal on the deck, new players, old players, all different kinds of players making music under a tarp in the rain. Incredible. Almost everyone stayed dry in their tents overnight and, when the cold and the wet got to be too much, many folks hiked up to the house and took a hot tub.  Not bad campers, not bad at all. We had a seriously good time in the rain. We must really like each other.

2012: The year of the stalwarts.  Here's to the camping heroes.  This is how to get better with age.

Photos will follow soon. I love you all.